Dag abr Shur'tugal
by Aylos
Summary: An orphan with a mysterious past, an urgal seeking honor, an elvish ranger destined for tragedy and a dwarvish lady who prefers a battle-axe to a sewing needle. Makes for an exciting tale, yes? Come closer my dears and listen now to the tales of Dag abr Shur'tugal, the Days of Riders. T/some frightening scenes & intense action. *PROLOGUE/Ch.1 update!*
1. Prologue

The days were getting shorter, the nights colder. Snow had fallen only a few days before, melted away by noonday. Soon it would remain, blanketing the northlands in a thick layer of white, weighing down the pines. Then the streams would freeze, and the storms would blow down from the mountains, and frigid cold would rule the north, when winter came.

But for now, the night wind only carried a whisper of what was to come. It was colder than the night before last, and darker, too. The clouds that shrouded the sky were not carrying rain. It would snow before the night was over.

Murtagh watched the fire until it died, his mind unsettled. It was late, he knew, but he could not sleep. Thorn shifted behind him, the dragon's warm belly pressing against his back. He absently scanned the treeline, knowing full well the stench of a dragon would scare off anything in the immediate vicinity.

_Something troubles you. _Thorn's voice surprised him.

_You're supposed to be resting. _

_So are you. _Thorn's massive head swiveled to rest before his rider, one scarlet eye fixed on Murtagh's face. _Is it lady-with-the-scars? _

Murtagh narrowed his eyes at the dragon. _No. _he replied. Thorn's eye brightened in amusement.

_Of course it is. _

_No._ Murtagh crossed his arms defiantly, blocking his thoughts from his dragon. He could feel Thorn nudging around his consciousness, before he averted his eyes.

Eight years. He had been gone for eight years. He rested the back of his head against Thorn's belly, watching the dark clouds shift restlessly above them. Was she still the same as when he had left her? She would be older now. Would she have waited for him?

Thorn shifted suddenly, moving to his feet and causing Murtagh to topple backwards.

_Hey! _he chanced lowering his barriers for a moment, _Where are you going?_

Thorn grunted. _You can brood over what you cannot know if you want to. I am hungry. _Slowly he unfurled his wings. _Are you coming?_

Above the clouds, the sky was bright with the light of the stars. Murtagh traced them with his gaze, picked out the familiar patterns. He knew these stars, the memories flooding back like an old dream. They weren't far from the elvish village of Ceunon, perhaps a day south from where they flew above the Spine. The ice-covered peaks rose around them like teeth from the billowing clouds below.

_You think... you think she'll remember me? _

Thorn's mind was occupied with his empty belly. He managed to acknowledge the thought with an impatient grunt. _The lady I knew would never forget the one who saved her life and held her heart. _

Murtagh smiled faintly, leaning back in the saddle to study the moon. It hung big and bright on the horizon, a pale face in a room full of fireflies.

* * *

They had only just passed into Alagaesia when Thorn notified him of the smoke.

Murtagh was busy searching the lands below, looking for sights he hadn't seen in eight years. They passed over Eragon's birth-town, Carvahall. It had been rebuilt since he and Thorn had left on their self-imposed exile. The new buildings sat squarely and neatly on the foundations of the old.

It was gone behind the foothills before he could blink. Thorn was flying at a leisurely pace, but for Thorn, "leisurely" meant fast and powerful. His shoulder muscles strained with the effort of lifting and lowering his wings. Murtagh had always loved the thrill of flying fast. He managed to forget about what it was that was troubling him.

When they came to the Anora river, a mere blue ribbon in the faded greens of the fields below, Thorn alerted him of something to the east.

_It smells of wood burning, but there is a strange taint to it. _Thorn veered to the left, and sent a mental picture of the smoke. Murtagh had no trouble finding the inky blot on the horizon. He could smell it too, as they neared it, that unsettling odor that screamed _magic_. It twisted and convulsed above the canopy of Du Weldenvarden - the Guarding Forest.

As they came upon what was left of the farmhouse, he swore.

Nothing had been left of the barn. The stonework had been blasted to pieces, the wooden beams burned black and still smoldering. The animals had been gutted and left for carrion, and the field was a rutted mess, cornstalks strewn about the mud, torn up from the roots. The house was no worse off, and similarly had been reduced to a shapeless heap of stonework and burning thatch.

Thorn landed in the field, his massive wings swatting away the crows that had begun to gather above the ruins, as though they were only flies. They squawked irritably in distress before perching clumsily in a nearby oak tree, whose branches drooped under their weight. Thorn's talons dug into the moist earth.

_Annoying creatures, _ he hissed. Murtagh undid the saddle straps that bound his legs and jumped to the ground. He took a few steps closer, the stink of the animals suddenly overwhelming him.

_This is not recent, _he observed. Thorn grunted in agreement.

_But who is responsible, I wonder? _

Murtagh opened his mind to the world around them, sensing the minds of the crows and the trees. From the animals he sensed nothing, but as he mentally scanned the ruins of the house...

_Someone is there! _Thorn realized simultaneously. It was faint, but living nonetheless. Murtagh searched the ruins, Thorn helping with the heavy beams and larger pieces of rubble. Two lives. Four bodies.

The first they found was an elderly woman, her white hair matted with blood, and her wrinkled face twisted in death. She had been crushed badly by the debris, and Thorn lifted her delicately out of the wreckage.

The second had been an elvish man. He had no doubt died protecting these people from whatever horror had befallen them. His dark hair had fallen over his face, and he had died with his eyes open, staring listlessly into oblivion, locked in the terror of his last moments. Very near to him, they found a woman, clutching the body of a small child. The mother was fair-haired and pretty even in her weakened state. She kept muttering a name as Murtagh pulled her free. Her dress had been torn and bloodied, and terrible wounds ran the length of her arms and legs. He was afraid to think what damage had been done internally.

"Valandil..." she reached for Murtagh's face. He held her wrist gently.

"No, sweet lady." He whispered. "I am Murtagh, a dragon rider. I can help you."

"...n-no. No time..." Frantically she searched, her eyes drooping. "The child... Where is my child..."

_She is very weak. _Thorn observed. Murtagh ignored him and placed the boy in his mother's arms. She clutched him possessively.

"...Kael..." she whispered, kissing him gently. She looked to Murtagh. "Keep him... safe... Rider..."

"My lady," Murtagh insisted. Thorn moved his head to observe more closely. _A dark magic is upon her. You could not save her if you tried._

_I must. I cannot let her die. How else are we to know who did this? _

_Try then, but she will die in your arms._

Murtagh grimaced. "I will heal you," he said as he placed his hand over the woman, more to himself than anyone else. She grabbed his hand, interrupting his use of the Ancient Language.

"I... am too weak... too tired... Please, you will look after the child?"

"Who did this to you?"

"... A man... with hair like fire... and eyes like crimson..." Her breathing became rapid, her grip tightening around Murtagh's wrist. "Please... my child..." She shifted slightly to offer him the boy. Murtagh saw by her grimace that even such a small movement pained her. She moved his hand to the boy's forehead. "Please... he mustn't remember... not until he is older..."

Suddenly a torrent of the boy's memories flooded into Murtagh's mind. Thorn growled in response to his rider's discomfort, but watched on with some interest. When the images had faded, Murtagh inhaled sharply. The child had seen much in his short life. The older woman had been his grandmother. The elvish man, Valandil, had been his father, and Hvedra his mother.

Thorn had seen the boy's memories as well. He grunted. _The child is a halfling, then._

_He won't know. _Murtagh suddenly pitied the child. He brushed aside the hair that clung to the boy's face. _There is much he won't understand. _

Hvedra took a rattling breath, her face pale as milk. "...Keep him safe... rider..."

And she closed her eyes and was gone. Her grip relaxed and her hand fell to the earth. The child stirred. "mama..." he muttered, before falling back into unconsciousness. Murtagh healed her visible wounds, closed the eyes of her husband, and laid them side by side in the same shallow grave with the woman's mother, dug by Thorn's sizable claws. He muttered a spell over the fresh mound of earth, to safeguard it from grave robbers, though Du Weldenvarden was close enough that no thief would dare try to disrupt them.

He sat nearby for a long while, rummaging through the memories and absently picking at the grass. The boy lay close beside him, still asleep. He wondered what he would do with the child, now that he had been charged to protect him.

Thorn approached, inclining his head toward the boy. _We must go. _The dragon insisted, _it is not safe here. _

Murtagh nodded slowly. They flew south and west, towards the capital, Illirea.

He had much to tell the Queen.

* * *

Kael sat cross legged next to Thorn's massive head, watching the people mill about the courtyard. Thorn watched the child in turn, one eye closed, while at the same time keeping a mental link with Murtagh. They had arrived in the Capital two days prior, and of course Nasuada had wanted to see Murtagh immediately. But her responsibilities to the realm had been pressing, and they had had to wait. Now Murtagh had been granted an audience, and Thorn had decided to stay back with the child. Strangely enough, Kael had yet to speak since he had woken up in the castle infirmary. The boy was estimated to be around seven or eight years, but with his elvish parentage, Thorn was doubtful that was his true age. His mind had barriers of remarkable strength, and attempting to breach them caused the boy to lash out both physically and mentally with terrifying strength for one so young. He was a beautiful child, with raven hair and dark eyes like his father. The rest of his features were of his human mother, but for the slight point at the tips of his ears, hardly noticeable from a distance.

_How is he? _Murtagh inquired. His rider had become quite fond of the halfling boy. Thorn snorted, drawing a curious glance from the child beside him. The boy had likewise developed a fondness for the dragon and rider, and Thorn would not be honest with himself if he were to say the feeling was not mutual.

_He does well. Still no words, though. Curious as a mouse, but much less trouble. _

He sensed Murtagh's amusement. _Do you relate everything to food? _

_Yes. _

_Thorn? _A new voice, one the dragon had not heard in eight years.

_Queen Nasuada. _He expanded his mental horizon, allowing her free access to his mind. _I trust you are well? _

_Yes, thank you. Murtagh has told me of your ventures in the wilds of the north. And also of your new charge. _

Thorn raised his head to look at the boy. _Here he is. __  
_

_I'm told he's a halfling. _

_He has elvish and human parentage, if the memories of his mother are to be trusted. _

_Murtagh has told me that no one but the boy must see these... memories. Pray tell me, is this true. _

_Yes, my lady. The memories of his mother were trusted to us for safekeeping, and they are for the boy to see only when he has come of age. _

_Why should she do this? _

_Perhaps to keep him from something which she feared? To keep him safe. _Murtagh suggested. _The memories were mostly of his life before the attack... _

_And...? What else? There was more, wasn't there? _Nasuada inquired. _Why would she take form him the memories he should hold dear to his heart. Without a past... I cannot imagine what the boy must be thinking. _Thorn felt the Queen shudder inwardly.

_Innocence. _Thorn spoke abruptly. _Without a past, he cannot feel the pain of grief for what never was. _

_That's a terrible way to go about it. _

_She was dying. Peace was her last wish for her son. _

_At the risk of causing him greater harm! _Nasuada's mental voice had become angry. _Who can know the confusion and hurt he must be feeling! Has he not spoken at all since you found him? __  
_

Thorn was silent, his attention returning to the boy. Kael was staring fixedly at something across the courtyard, near to the castle wall. Ensconced in the shadows caused by the setting sun, a pair of green eyes glared out at the dragon and the child.

_Thorn? _Murtagh asked inquisitively.

_It seems the boy has made a new acquaintance. _

_What? _

_A werecat. _

The voices from the castle were silent for a moment. At last Nasuada requested Murtagh to bring the boy to her solar.

_And perhaps we should meet this new friend of his. _She told Thorn.

* * *

He had been watching the boy for quite some time, ever since his arrival in the Capital.

He couldn't place it, but there was something about this boy that seemed... fantastic? No, not the right word. The werecat purred as the dragon noticed him in the shadows.

Promising? No that still wasn't right.

How about _fateful? _Too ominous, but closer still. Even if the werecat couldn't put his paw on it, he could sense it undoubtedly. There was something in the boy's _wyrda_. Something that promised of great adventure.

He would have to keep watching.

**A/N: Ok yeah so I've added a bit more! This is what I like to think of as the **PROLOGUE**! So the **next chapter **will come (hopefully) later today... but I'm losing computer access and not sure when I'll get it back, so if not, then sometime next week. updates will be a little sporadic thru the summer, guys, sorry. :( **

**Thanks for you reviews, any advice, etc... PM me with any questions. Thanks! **** :) **


	2. Chapter 1

10 Years Later

* * *

"Cut, block, parry, _block!_"

His sword skittered away, and he was left standing with the other man's blade pointed at his throat. Kael grimaced and rubbed his bruised knuckles.

"You were too close, ward. You're overthinking it." Sword master Allister lowered his sword and gestured to the blade on the ground. "Again."

"What?" Kael demanded breathlessly.

"You heard me." The older man raised his sword again and eased into the customary stance. The other boys around them snickered among themselves. His ears burning, Kael retrieved his blade and followed suit, mirroring the master's stance.

Allister made the first thrust, and Kael blocked it, parrying in turn. The dance had begun again.

"That's it! Cut! Parry! Thrust! Again!"

Kael's brow furrowed in concentration, his mind sectioning off until all he could see was his opponent before him. The sound of clashing swords clattered off the walls of the courtyard, sparks flying as the blades met. Again and again, faster and faster. Always judging, always moving. A sudden sense of exhilaration overcame him as he gave in to mere instinct.

It came naturally to him, the movement of the blade effortless. He blocked a low cut to his knees and parried, feinting to the right and throwing up a block as he moved past his opponent, the sword vibrating as it met with that of the other man. Allister was older than Kael, and stronger, but he did not have the stamina to keep at this for much longer. Kael noted that the other man's breath was coming in ragged huffs, his face splotched with red, and his mustache dripping from the sweat that drenched his face and neck. It would not be long.

Parry, sidestep, block and parry again. Allister's defense had weakened considerably, and Kael wasted no time in switching to his reserved energy, making each cut and thrust more powerful, until his arm and shoulder burned with agony, but he would not stop until he won.

There it was. The older man's first miscalculation. He had sidestepped to avoid Kael's blade, and had therefore left his right flank open to attack. One tap on the ribs would win this match. Kael made a powerful thrust, intending to flick his wrist and change the direction of the point closer to it's target. The man jumped out of the way, as he had expected. Suddenly his sword arm was jerked toward his opponent, his increased momentum popping it out of joint. He suddenly found himself on the ground, the older man's sword point at his throat, and his shoulder aching terribly. Allister released his hold on Kael's forearm and stood back, lowering his sword.

He smiled. "Much better," He huffed, trying to catch his breath. Kael's own chest heaved as he took in the situation. He couldn't lift his sword arm. A dull aching was all he could feel in his shoulder.

"You..." He struggled to rise, grimacing as his shoulder twinged in agony. "It's dislocated."

The swordmaster nodded, still too winded for words. "Quite... the match... didn't think I'd let... let you beat me... did you?" He bent over, bracing his hands on his knees. "A... moment, please."

Kael flexed the fingers of his injured arm, feeling the tendrils of pain crawling upwards toward the tear. He could not recall a time in his training when he had come so close to winning, nor when he had ever lost himself to his instinct. He recalled the feeling. Exhilarating. Frightening.

None of the other boys had said a word since the match had begun. Hann, the oldest and largest of the six, glared at him furiously. Of the seven of them, Hann was only a year away from the completion of his training, and he had never been able to so much as wind the master, let alone go as far as to nearly defeat him. With each other, though, Hann was perhaps the most dangerous and merciless opponent. He carried grudges into his matches, and Kael had the scars to prove it.

He was dismissed for the remainder of the day, which earned him jealous mutterings from the others. As he made his way across the inner courtyard, the sounds of battle resumed behind him.

* * *

**A/N: There's a little teaser for you! :) I know you all hate me now! I'm sorry but if you want the update, you'll have to live with this! I have to go away for the next couple of weeks and can't get computer access! (I will probably DIE without it...) **

**So I'll see you when I get back, and will definitely UPDATE on my return! **

**Again, sorry... :( **

**Please PM or Review with thoughts/comments/suggestions... the usual. Thanks! **


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